Alphabet Soup
by Sorrel
Summary: Xander loves Spike. Spike has no clue. With a little help from some friends, they fumble their way towards a relationship. S-X SLASH.
1. A is for Androgyny, Assets, and Angels

**A is for Androgyny, Ass...ets, and Angels.

* * *

**

Xander knew that he had fallen into an alternate universe. Usually, these things required careful checking, because you didn't want to run around saying that you were in an alternate universe unless you're sure, because then people would think you were crazy. But this time he was sure, no doubt about it, no second thoughts and no turning back.

Spike was wearing a dress.

Okay, it wasn't quite a dress. It was... _like_ a dress. It was tight, and black, and came down to mid-thigh, and he was wearing it over a pair of obscenely tight blue jeans. The boots were the same, thank god- Xander could only take so many shocks- but Spike's hair was gelled into, well, spikes instead of being slicked back against his skull, and he was wearing makeup- thick black eyeliner painted around his gunmetal gray eyes, and bright red lipstick that caused his mouth to look even more carnal than it had before.

He looked like sin, and it was blowing Xander's mind.

"Spike, what the hell are you wearing?" he said, his voice sort of weak and faint instead of forceful like he intended. "And why?"

Spike sneered at him, which looked obscenely good on those painted lips, and said, "It's a dress, Harris. What are you, blind?"

Okay, so it was a dress.

"And as to the why- I'm goin' to a club tonight, up in LA. Just waiting for the sun to set so I can start driving."

Xander paused to think about this for a minute. "The drive's a couple of hours. If you're gonna do the whole clubbing thing, aren't you gonna get fried on the drive back?"

Spike looked surprised at that, as if he was expecting more shock and disbelief instead of concern. Well, as much as Xander wanted to play to Spike's expectations, it took more brainpower than he had at the moment to keep up the pretense of not giving a damn. Of being _friends,_ sometimes, if Spike was in the mood, but never anything else. It was taking everything he had to just stand there and _look_ at all that temptation that was just a few feet away, staring at him with a slightly confused look on his face, when all he wanted to do was grab Spike and show him what he could do with that mouth of his.

Spike recovered from his surprise then, and twisted his mouth back into the sneer that always made Xander's cock ache. "I'll be fine. Might drop in on the Pouf, see if the family feeling is still going strong, or if he wants to return the favor and play with a few hot pokers."

_Grrr..._ Xander barely prevented himself from growling out loud. Stupid Angel, with his stupid hair and his stupid habit of always getting exactly what Xander wanted... He kept his voice neutral, though, and said only, "What if he wants to do the thing with the pokers?"

Spike shrugged carelessly. "I'll find shelter somewhere. Been around a long time- I can always find somewhere to hide from the sun."

Xander opened his mouth to say- something, he wasn't quite sure, when he glanced to his right and saw that the sun had finished setting. "Hey, it's all dark and stuff," he said instead. "Not gonna be able to do that dancing thing if you don't get a move on."

Spike looked at him, eyes narrowing. "You all right?" he said curiously. "Because you look like Xander Harris, but you sound nothing like him."

"Ha ha, very funny," Xander said dryly. "I'm allowed to worry about you, you know. It doesn't break any Scooby rules."

"Bet it does," Spike teased. "Bet you've got a handbook of rules all written down somewhere, and there it'll be, number three hundred and some: 'White Hats do not worry about soulless fiends.'"

Xander just rolled his eyes, though he wanted to grab Spike and shake some sense into him. Why couldn't Spike understand that Xander actually cared about him?

"Just... call me, will you? If you're not driving home tonight? I don't wanna picture your dust lying in some gutter, and having no idea what happened to you."

Spike looked at him with that funny, intense look that he could do sometimes. "You're really gonna worry about me, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Xander admitted. "Humor me, will you?"

Spike shrugged. "Sure. I'll call you if I'm having a slumber party with Peaches or something. Good enough, Dad?"

_No. I want to never hear you call me Dad again, like I'm some stodgy old guy instead of the guy who wants to kiss you, lick you, fuck you, make you beg and scream._

"Yeah, it's good enough. Now get out of here, you're wasting your lack of daylight."

Spike grinned at him, waved, and grabbed his keys from the table by the side door. "See ya later, mate. Try not to do something unbearably exiting without me."

_No danger of that._ "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Xander said, and Spike shot him a _look_ over one shoulder, the kind of look that could make anything with functioning hormones sit up and beg.

"I plan on doing all sorts of things you wouldn't do, Harris," Spike said. "Gonna have me a _real_ good time." He pulled on his duster, dropped his keys in his pocket, and winked at Xander. "Don't wait up."

The door slammed shut behind him, and Xander collapsed onto the couch. _He's killing me. God. What higher power hates me enough to put that much temptation in my reach and yet put him so far out of my league that I'll never be able to touch?_

It was just another example of the Xander Harris brand of bad luck, he decided. His life was a fucking tragedy- or a comedy, if you liked to laugh at other people's misfortune.

Fucking figured that he would have the bad luck to fall in love with Spike.

* * *

Maybe if Spike hadn't been so distracted by Xander's odd behavior, he wouldn't have noticed. He would have been too wrapped up in the music, too absorbed in dancing, to see Angel, lurking in the corner.

But because he was distracted by Xander's behavior, he did notice Angel lurking, and he decided that if Fate was going to hand this opportunity to torture Angel to him on a silver platter, than he was, by God or whatever, going to take advantage of it.

The song that came on just as he came to this conclusion just reinforced his belief that Fate was laughing at Angel, and smiling down on him. It was just so damn perfect. He spun around in a quick flash of black against pale skin that drew Angel's gaze to him, and once he was sure that Angel's eyes were on him, Spike caught and held his gaze, and began to dance.

_"Wash off those scabs dear/ or fingernail pick them clean/ pray to all your long-lost demons to justify your means."_

Angel wasn't just looking at him now. He was staring.

_"Devil has a new shape/ Devil has a new ride/ Devil has a problem but he locks it up inside."_

Oh yeah, this was fun.

_"Kid's sure like the devil these days/ and I'm the devil with the black dress on/ Do you want to own me Angel/ cause I own you now you're gone."_

He put an extra twist into his hips on the word "own," and raised his arms, crossing his wrists like they held by chains. Even all the way across the room, he saw something flash in Angel's eyes. Poor baby, still trying to pretend that he didn't like what he was seeing. Well, Spike would see how long that would last.

_"Did you believe it 'cause I said so/ did you believe it was true/ I'm eternal and infernal and I sure lied to you."_

Well, he couldn't remember the last time that he'd lied to Angel, and he sure as hell couldn't remember the last time Angel had actually taken anything he'd said at face value, but two of three were right.

_"Good girl with the black eyes/ Believe in future past/ Everything that I want happens/ See how long that lasts."_

He faltered, very briefly, as that line hit home. Why did that first line make him think of Xander? And wasn't it just fucking typical of his life that everything went wrong?

He cast the thought aside, though, and did what he did best- living in the moment, no thought of the future or the past. Nothing to think about but what he was doing right now, which was seducing Angel with little more than a dance.

_"Devil has a hot rod/ Devil high on speed/ Devil has a black dress/ So her arms can bleed."_

At the last line Spike scored his arms with his fangs, then shook away his game face as he lifted his arms and let the blood trickle down in dark streams over pale skin. Even from all the way across the room Spike knew the moment the smell of blood hit him, and Angel's face shifted almost helplessly to his vampiric features.

_"Kids sure like the Devil these days/ And I'm the devil with the black dress on/ Do you want to hurt me Angel/ 'cause I'm hurting now you're gone."_

The song wasn't over, but as the last words screamed through the speakers, Spike gave one last twitch of his hips and slipped through the crowd, disappearing from Angel's view and moving along the outside of the crowd. Silence descended for a brief moment between songs, and in that split second of silence and darkness, as the strobes stilled with the music, he came up behind Angel and slid one black-nailed hand over the taller man's stomach.

"Been keeping fit, haven't you, Angelus? How's tricks?"

Angel kept very, very still. "Spike. What the hell are you playing at?"

"Missed you, ducks," Spike said casually, and slid his hand oh-so-slightly downwards. Not far enough down to actually do any good for Angel's straining erection (what, was Spike supposed to just not notice? As Dawn said, shyeah, right) but definitely far enough to tease.

"Yeah, pull the other one, it's got bells on," Angel said, startling Spike into laughter and causing him to step away, removing his tormenting hand.

"Why, Angelus! You picked up a sense of humor somewhere! Who would've thought?"

"It's Angel," he said through gritted teeth. "Not Angelus."

Spike shook his head mournfully. "I still can't get over it. The mighty Angelus, brought lower than a worm's belly by a pesky soul." He cocked his head, considered. "This might even call for a drink. C'mon, _Angel,_ you're buying."

"I'm not buying you a drink, Spike," Angel said with that awful patience in his voice that always drove Spike batty. "The only reason I came here at all is because Cordelia had a vision of a girl in trouble."

"And did you save the damsel in distress?" Spike inquired.

"Well, yeah."

"Then there's nothing to stop you from getting drunk, is there?"

The worst thing, Angel would think later, was that even as Spike was towing him by one hand to the bar, he couldn't think of a single damn thing to say in protest.

* * *

A couple hours later, and they'd moved the party back to Angel's place. Spike burst out laughing when he saw where Angel was hanging his hat these days- a bloody huge hotel with more rooms than Angel probably even knew about, much less used. Figured.

Turned out that Angel kept a decent stash of the old Irish locked up in his room, where his little humans couldn't get ahold of it, so Spike stopped laughing long enough to pour himself a drink with very slightly unsteady hands. He'd had a good bit of vodka at the bar, as had Angel, but he was a vampire, with a vampire's constitution, and he'd had over a century to build up his tolerance to alcohol.

Another hour saw Angel sprawled out over the couch and Spike stretched out on the floor, both of them with a bottle of good Irish whiskey in one hand. Spike was giggling at something Angel had said, though neither of them could quite remember what it was.

Remember... remember... Suddenly, Spike sprang (well, wavered) to a vaguely upright position. "Shit. Almost forgot. You got a phone, mate?"

Angel, who felt dizzy from watching Spike sway on his feet, nodded and pointed to the portable on the bedside table. "Who you callin'?"

Spike ignored him and dialed. A couple of rings later, and there was a worried voice on the other end of the line. "Spike? That you?"

"Yeah, it's me. Seems like me and the Spud, here, are having that sleepover after all."

There was a pause. "Spike, are you drunk?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm right pissed. Same for the Poof. He has- well, had- a great many bottles of the finest Irish whiskey. Good stuff."

Xander sighed, and Spike could picture him rolling his eyes. Spike grinned foolishly, feeling a rush of affection for the boy that he would have violently stomped on if he was sober. "Take care not to wander out into the sunlight, okay? And call me before you leave."

"Yes, Da," Spike said seriously, then burst out laughing. "Can take care of meself, mate, been doin' it a good sight longer than you."

"Spike, you're completely blitzed. Go sleep it off. Call back when you're sober."

"Sure thing, Xander," Spike said, and stood there even after the click that signaled that Xander had hung up, staring at the phone with that same foolish smile. It was good to have someone to look after him.

"You called _Xander?_" Angel said with disbelief. "I thought you two hated each other."

"The fuck you been, Angel? Been living in his place ever since the little demon dumped him to move on to greener pastures. Fucking bitch. Anyway, Xander was all worried that I'd get toasted by the sun or somesuch, so I was just callin' him to check in, ease his mind a little, see?"

Angel did see, much better than Spike did, despite the vast amount of alcohol swimming through his bloodstream. "Does he always check up on you like this?"

Spike shook his head, picking his way unsteadily across the floor to collapse on the floor at Angel's feet. Almost against his will, Angel's hand came up to comb through gelled blond hair.

"Nah. He's usually pretty laid back. Doesn't bitch about vampire hours. Doesn't get a stick up his ass when I'm takin' the piss. Good mate."

_He's in love with me but I'm too much of a moron to realize it or the fact that I'm in love with him too,_ Angel translated. Yeah, that was Spike all over. Angel didn't get why Xander, of all people, had fallen for Spike, but it was very clear that he had. And it was equally clear that Spike had fallen right back.

Angel was a little jealous, though he'd never admit it. Spike was still Spike- and infuriating, gorgeous, mouthy little punk with a face that angels must have carved. Only look how fast Angel had fallen into his trap tonight. Some was old habits working on him, and some was just Spike. Still as hateful and seductive as ever.

"It'd be nice to do something for him," Spike was blathering on. "He's been taking care of me. Never lets me do anything for him, though."

"You know, his birthday is coming up in a couple of days," Angel suggested. "Maybe you could get him a present."

Spike perked right up at that. "Yeah! Something he really wants but won't buy for himself 'cause it'd be 'a waste of good money,'" Spike said, in a pitch-perfect impression of Xander's voice. "Good idea, mate."

You knew Spike was drunk, Angel reflected, when he paid you a compliment without it being sarcastic.

"I'm really glad that I came up to LA, so we could have this little talk."

"Yeah," Angel said, and there was only a hint of irony in his voice. "Me too."


	2. B is for Birthdays, Banyans, and Balloon...

**B is for Birthdays, Banyans, and Balloons.

* * *

**

Xander watched Spike carefully out of the corner of his eye. The vampire was sitting on the steps in the Magic Box, looking as innocent and carefree as a vampire possibly could. He even went so far as to tilt his head back and stare at the ceiling, whistling cheerfully.

Xander knew something was up.

Well, okay, duh. This was Spike. Something was always up.

But this time he thought that something was more up than usual. Spike was acting so perfectly innocent and blameless that he just had to be doing something to be blamed for.

But for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what it was. So he sat there, watching Spike out of the corner of his eye, and worked his way through the pile of weapons that Giles had slapped down on the table and told him to clean.

Reminded of the ex-Watcher, Xander looked up and around. Giles was nowhere to be seen- which was odd, because ever since Anya had left him several months ago, Giles hadn't yet found a new sales assistant, and it was extremely unlike him to leave the register unoccupied, even if Xander was sitting there. What was going on?

Just then, Willow came running in, from the door that led to the training room. "Xander, come quick! There's some demon in the back, and I can't get ahold of Buffy, and I think it's going to kill Giles!"

Every bit of concern over Spike's faux innocence vanished in a surge of sheer adrenaline. He grabbed an axe out of the pile on the table and took over for the back door, just barely aware of Spike right on his heels.

He burst out of the door that led to the alley, axe already raised to strike down whatever evil fiend was after them this week, when he saw that there was no evil fiend. Instead, the alley was filled with three long tables, two covered with food and one with prettily wrapped presents, and people. Buffy was there, grinning, along with Giles, completely unharmed, as well as Willow, Tara, Dawn, Mrs. Summers, and a couple of guys from the site, the ones who knew exactly what kind of town Sunnydale was.

He was staring, dumbfounded, at the completely unexpected sight before him, when he heard Spike's voice behind him. "Happy Birthday, pet."

He spun around to face the vampire, who was standing there, smiling at him. "What?"

Willow bounced back over to him, grinning like a loon. "It was Spike's idea. I know we never threw you a party, because somehow most parties end up Hellmouthy, but Spike wanted to give you a party. He set the whole thing up- all we had to do was show up."

"He even called us," volunteered Joe, one of the guys he worked with. "Hell if I know how he got our numbers, but he called us up, told us there was gonna be a party for your birthday and when and where we were supposed to be."

He turned back around in a daze to face Spike. "You did this? But I didn't even know that you _knew_ my birthday."

Spike looked at the grounded, looked at the sky, and finally looked back at Xander. "Angeltoldme," he muttered, very fast, but Xander understood him nonetheless.

"_Angel_ told you?" He paused. "I wonder how Angel knew."

"Dunno, pet, but when I went up to LA last Saturday and ran into him we got to talking about you, and he told me your birthday was today." Spike was silent for a minute, then said, very softly, "Just wanted to do something nice for you, you know? You've been looking out for me for the past couple of months, so I figured I wanted to return the favor."

Xander smiled at him, and said, "Thank you, Spike," in such a heartfelt voice that Spike was dazzled by the intensity and sincerityHeHH in his dark brown eyes. There was a moment where they were locked in their own little bubble of reality, and they were just looking at each other, and there was something there, something Spike almost realized but not quite, and before he could grasp it Dawn had bounced forward to drag him over to the presents table, loudly proclaiming that he had to open hers first, and the moment was lost.

* * *

It had been a hell of a party. Not really Spike's style, with all the smiles and chatter and absolutely no blood and carnage, but Xander was enjoying it, and that was all Spike cared about.

Even if they had played Backstreet Boys for a solid hour. Spike shuddered at the very thought.

All the presents had been opened, and all the cake and ice cream had been consumed. Everyone was sprawled out in chairs, talking in the quiet, comfortable sort of way that happens when everyone has eaten far too much. Xander was laughing with Willow and Buffy, and Spike was sitting off to the side, on his own, watching the three best friends and smiling just a little to himself because his surprise worked out even better than he thought it would.

Someone sat down beside him, but he didn't turn around to face her till Tara said, "This was just what he needed, you know."

Spike gave her a sideways glance. "Is that right?"

She nodded. "You know that I can see auras, sometimes, right?"

"Yeah. What's your point?"

She ignored his rudeness and snark just like she always did. "He's been a little... off, the past few months. It got better for a while after you moved in, but after a while he started drifting again. There's something a little transparent about his aura, a little shadowed. It's always better when you're around, though. I think you're good for him."

Spike sat in silence for a moment, thinking about that. "I'm glad," he said finally. "He's good for me, too."

Tara sent him an impish grin, and he couldn't help but grin back. "Everyone knows that," she told him. "I'm just glad that you realize it." Pause. "I wonder if he does."

"Does what, pet?" Spike asked, as if he didn't know.

"Knows that he's good for you. I haven't seen him as happy as he is today for months. As I said, it's exactly what he needed. But you wanted to give him something special, didn't you? Something that he'd never think to get for himself?"

Spike whipped his head around to stare at her. "How did you-"

"The party was a good start," Tara continued, ignoring his question. "But that wasn't enough for you, was it? You wanted to give him something else. Only you couldn't think of anything."

Spike was staring at her now, completely silent and, very possibly, with his mouth hanging open.

"I think that if you really want to give him something special, you'd tell him."

"Tell him what? What am I supposed to tell him?"

"That he's good for you," Tara said softly, and then, even more softly, "Tell him what he means to you. The rest will come from that."

"The rest? What rest? What are you talking about?"

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "there's a type of tree in East India called a banyan that sends out shoots to grown down to the soil until it's formed a secondary trunk." She smiled at him, a tiny, mysterious smile that he didn't think he'd ever seen on her face before. "If you think about it, I think that you'll realize that you've done exactly the same thing with Xander."

While he was staring at her, she stood up, still smiling her mysterious little smile. "It's getting late," she said. "I better get Willow home, if she wants to be conscious for her class tomorrow."

"You do that, pet," he said distractedly, still watching her intensely as he tried to make sense of her words. She nodded, touched his cheek once, smiled, and then walked over to where Willow was still laughing with Buffy and Xander.

When Willow and Tara left, everyone decided to make their excuses as well, and within minutes the alley was empty of everyone except Spike and Xander. Xander was smiling, a happy, carefree smile that Spike hadn't seen in... longer than he could remember, really, and he thought that Tara was right about this, so maybe she was right about the rest of it? Should he tell Xander how much he cared about him, how glad he was that they'd somehow gotten over their mutual hatred and become friends? Spike hadn't had a friend before, not really, and he wasn't sure if he could really put into words what that friendship meant to him.

Xander came over to where Spike was still sitting. "Hey, Bleachboy," he said with an affectionate grin. "Party's over. Everyone's gone. Who's gonna clean up?"

"I hired somehow to come in soon as the sun's up and take care of it," Spike said absently, still wondering how to say what Tara had told him to say. "All we gotta do is take the presents."

"Man, you're actually paying for someone to clean this up? You sure went all-out on this," Xander said. He touched Spike's shoulder with three careful fingertips. "I can't thank you enough for tonight," he said more seriously. "I didn't know how much I needed this till I got it. I owed you big."

"You don't owe me anything, pet," he said, and was just about to try to tell Xander what he meant, when Xander abruptly switched gears and grinned.

"C'mon, let's grab the presents and go home."

_Home._ The word touched something in Spike. It always did. Didn't matter that he'd been living with Xander for months, and Xander had been saying it for just as long. It still surprised him each and every time.

"Actually, the night's not over yet," Spike told him. "You might have noticed that I didn't get you a present."

Xander turned to look at him, surprised. "I thought that the party was my present."

"No, the party was a party. The present is waiting for us in LA."

Xander gave him an extremely confused look. "In LA? What's in LA?" Pause. "This doesn't have anything to do with Angel, does it?"

"Oh hell no," Spike said. "Well, only in that we might stay the night in one of his spare rooms. He's got a whole damn hotel, anyway. No, the present isn't Angel. It's a club."

"What?"

Oh, Spike loved that expression. It was the one that said that Xander's brain was running one step behind whatever was being said. It was too cute for words.

Wait. _Cute?_ Since when did he think anything about Xander was cute? Jesus. He must be going insane.

"I said, we're going to a club. You had your evening of good clean fun. Now it's fun to get a little down-and-dirty."

What did that expression on Xander's face mean? His eyes had darkened at those last words, and Xander's mouth had turned down a little at the corners. What, did Xander have an objection to clubs?

"Problem?"

"Can't dance," Xander said shortly. "I don't think clubbing would really be my thing."

Oh, for the love of- "Of course you can dance," Spike said, his exasperation evident in his voice. "I've seen you fight, haven't I?"

"What that got to do with anything?"

"It's the same thing, pet," Spike explained. "It's all in knowing your body. And you do. And even if you can't dance, well, I'll just have to show you how, won't I?"

Another flash of something unhappy in his expression, and Spike decided that he was going to have to break out his last resort, if only to get a smile. "Oh, and there's one other thing," he said, very casually. When Xander looked back at him, the question plain in his eyes, Spike grinned at him and bent to rummage in the large black bag he'd kept near his chair, for just such a moment.

He emerged triumphant with three red balloons, and held them out to Xander with a grin. "These," he said. "I have it on good authority that you can't have a proper birthday without balloons."

"Whose authority?" Xander said absently, looking at the balloons as if he was hypnotized by the things.  
"Dawn," Spike said. "You gonna take 'em or not?"

Whatever thoughts were holding Xander captive seemed to let go then, and the grin was back when he looked up at Spike. "Yeah, I'm gonna take them," he said, suiting action to word. "So, we gonna go clubbing, or what?"

Spike breathed an internal sigh of relief. Whatever sore spot he'd touched seemed to be gone for the time being, and the Xander he was used to was back. "Yeah, we're going," he said. "C'mon, you're gonna die of old age before we get to LA, at this rate."

"Yeah, yeah," Xander said, and slung a friendly arm over his shoulders. "We taking your car or mine?"

"Oh, definitely yours," Spike said, thinking of Xander's uncle's convertible that Spike had repaired recently. "And I'm driving."

"Like hell you are," Xander said, but it was a laughing protested. They bickered amicably as they loaded up the presents in the trunk, and Spike thought that things were back to normal. Well, as normal as things ever got with them, anyway.

He'd talk to Xander later. But before he did, he wanted to think about what Tara said some more, and decided exactly what he wanted to say. It was important, and he didn't want to get it wrong.

And maybe later he'd figure out what was wrong with Xander, for in the last ten minutes, he'd become certain that something definitely was. They'd talk eventually, and he'd pry it out of Xander. He always did.

Xander never could hide anything from him.


	3. C is for Cars, Clubbing, and Confessions

**C is for Cars, Clubbing, and the Confessions.

* * *

**

Note: The song is "Temptation Waits" by Garbage.

* * *

Spike was having the time of his life, driving way too fast down the highway towards LA. Xander was sitting in the seat beside him, pretending to be terrified by the speed they were going, leaning down in the seat and cringing, but Spike knew it was just for show. He could see Xander laughing, out of the corner of his eye.

And the three red balloons were still clenched tight in Xander's fist.

They'd spent the first half hour listening to nothing but the wind and each other's voices as they argued over who got to pick the music. Spike said that it was driver's rights, but Xander claimed that it was his birthday, and eventually he got his way. There was some god-awful country-western crap pouring out of the speakers, and Spike had lived with Xander long enough to know that Xander listened to perfectly acceptable music most of the time, so he had to be doing it just to torture Spike. Not that Spike minded all that much. If Xander was going out of his way to bother Spike, that meant that things were back to normal between them, and whatever sore spot that Spike had inadvertently poked back before they'd left was out of reach, for the moment.

Spike wished he knew what it was, though. He didn't want to hurt Xander- his _friend,_ as odd as that may be. And he couldn't avoid hurting him, if he didn't know what was going on.

But he didn't know what was going on. And he didn't even know where to start guessing. He knew that it had flared up when he said something about clubbing, and again when he was talking about getting "down and dirty." But that wasn't exactly enough to go on- Xander might have had a traumatic experience in a club once, but someone Spike didn't think that was it. What could someone who fought demons find traumatic? It was a puzzle. One that Spike intended to figure out. Eventually.

He could just ask Xander- which is what he would usually do- but he wasn't sure how. Most of their conversations were about utterly trivial things, and he wasn't sure how to go about talking about something that Xander obviously found deeply painful. Besides, he still had to figure out what to say about the things that Tara had advised him to talk about. It wasn't like that was another common topic between him and Xander. Emotions? Not so very much their thing.

"Hey, Deadboy Junior. You heard a word I said?"

Spike turned to look at Xander, who had given up on his pretense of terror and was grinning at him from the passenger seat. "Er, of course I did." Pause. "What was it again?"

"Well, it was something about whether you were enjoying finally getting a chance to drive my car, but if you ask me, you're enjoying it a little too much. You were off in lala land, my friend."

And there it was, the thing that always made Spike go all melty and un-vamplike inside. Friend. He and Xander were- friends. Ridiculous, wasn't it? But it worked.

At the same time, though, it made things harder. Spike had never had to worry about hurting a human's feelings before. He'd never had to worry about them, period. And yet, here he was.

He shook his thoughts aside and focused on answering Xander before the boy could mock him again. "Was not off in lala land. Was just thinking."

"I thought I smelled something burning."

"Ha ha, very funny," Spike said dryly. "I'm not so stupid as all that."

"Of course you aren't," Xander said soothingly. "That's why after decades of being in the States, you still try to get in the passenger side when you're going to drive."

"Sod off," Spike said, without any real heat in his voice. "I learned to drive in England. Just proof that I remember what I learned, is all."

"Yeah, well, I'd appreciate it if you'd remember what you learned _here,_ and not try to drive on the wrong side of the road."

"It's the right side of the road, you git. You soddin' Yanks got it all arse backwards, is all."

"We had cars first."

"Roads weren't invented when cars were. They had carriages, and the like, long before the invention of the combustion engine. And roads were needed for carriages. And we had those before you lot took off for a new life in the colonies. So there."

"A remarkably mature conclusion to your argument, Spike. Truly, I am impressed."

"Good to know I'm still impressive," Spike said, and Xander laughed.

Comfortable silence fell between them for the next little while. Finally, Spike got off the highway and fought his way through LA traffic to reach the downtown club that he'd been in just a week before, when he'd run into Angel.

He parked, then turned to look at Xander. The boy was dressed in his usual clothes, which is to say, jeans and a fairly ragged t-shirt, with heavy construction boots on his feet. Spike shook his head, clucked his tongue sadly, and decided that it was a good thing that he'd planned ahead.

"Right. Strip."

"_What!_" Xander's yelp echoed through the parking garage, and a dark red stained his cheekbones. Hell, since when was Xander all that modest around him?

"There's no one around, you pillock," Spike said impatiently.

"Besides you!"

"I've seen you naked before," Spike said. "C'mon, you can't go into the club looking like that. I'll be ashamed to be seen with you."

The blush went darker and something like hurt flashed in Xander's eyes, and Spike had to sigh. "Look," he said in a gentler tone. "That's not what I meant and you know it. I got you clothes that'll fit and make you look a treat, so forget I said that and just change already, before I die of old age."

His joke didn't get the expected laugh, but the hurt look faded away a little. "Turn your back," Xander said.

"What?"

"Turn your back."

"I've seen it all," Spike pointed out. "What's your problem?"

"Spike, you're asking me to strip down and change in a public parking garage. Also, it's my birthday. Indulge me, will you?"

Grumbling, Spike obliged, but it was only with great willpower that he didn't turn around and watch. He was insanely curious as to how the clothes he'd picked out would look. He suspected that with a little help from him, Xander the construction worker could turn into Xander the attractive.

Which he didn't just think, because Xander was Xander and therefore Spike wouldn't find him attractive. So he ignored the thought entirely.

At last, Xander's tentative voice behind him said, "Alright, you can look now."

"Finally!" Spike said, and whirled around to see if his fashion sense still held strong.

Xander was wearing black jeans tight enough that you could probably count change in the pockets, if you could fit any in. Black boots gave him another couple inches in height, and a tight black t-shirt outlined every muscle on his body. His hair, which usually just looked messy, somehow looked styled when paired with the clothing he was wearing. And the heavy black leather collar around his neck, decorated with a single silver ring, was just icing on the cake.

Oh yeah. He still had it.

"How do I look?" Xander said, uncertainty clear in his voice. Spike had to swallow once before he answered.

"You look great, pet. Now let's go dance, yeah?"

Xander nodded, and started walking towards the elevator, and Spike was able to watch his ass in those jeans the whole way there.

Suddenly, he was looking forward to this night a hell of a lot more.

* * *

Inside, the music was loud, and the dance floor was full. Just the way Spike liked it, Xander had no doubt. Unfortunately, Spike dragged him straight into the middle of the crowd, ignoring his protests, and pulled him close- far too close for his rioting nerve endings- just as another song started.

_"I'll tell you something/ I am a wolf but/ I like to wear sheep's clothing."_

He recognized the singer as Garbage, but wasn't sure what the song was. Either way, Spike had good timing, because this was his song all over.

_"I am a bonfire/ I am a vampire/ I'm waiting for my moment."_

God. Spike was writhing in front of him, his back to Xander, looking like sin in his painted-on black t-shirt and jeans, habitual black chain hang loose across his chest. He felt small, almost delicate, against Xander's much larger body, fitting just right against him when Xander gave in to temptation and slid his hands down Spike's sides to his hips and pulled him back flush against his body.

_"You come on like a drug/ I just can't get enough/ I'm like an addict coming at you for a little more."_

His head was spinning, and his cock was already hard and getting harder as Spike rubbed his ass back against it. Xander felt like he couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but feel Spike against him. His senses were overloading, and it was the best thing he'd ever felt. The song was so, so right- he couldn't get enough of his drug, of his Spike.

_"And there's so much at stake/ I can't afford to waste/ I never needed anybody like this before."_

There was too much at stake. An easy, comfortable friendship of the like he hadn't enjoyed since he and Willow and Jesse, back in elementary school, before everyone figured out the difference between girl parts and boy parts and what it all meant. But he'd never wanted anything as much as he wanted Spike, and that was the excuse that allowed him to keep dancing, keep feeling everything he'd wanted to feel for... months, now. Maybe forever. That huge want that overrode everything else, and the thought that this wasn't real; they were just locked in their own little bubble of time, and it wouldn't be real when it was over. It didn't count. It was just one song. Just one dance.

Just everything.

_"I'll tell you something/ I am a demon/ Some say my biggest weakness/ I have my reasons/ Call it my defense/ Be careful what you're wishing..."_

He slid one hand up Spike's chest, slow and sensual like he'd always wanted to do, pausing to rub on stiff nipple with calloused fingertips. A groan vibrated through Spike's torso and into his chest, but he wasn't finished, and if he was really going to do this, then he was going to go all the way.

_"You are a secret/ A new possession/ I like to keep you guessing."_

The upper hand kept moving until it was tangled in the chain, and he twisted it in a clenched fist, the ownership he'd always wanted. The other hand slid downward, from Spike's hip to his crotch. Xander was both surprised and not surprised to feel Spike's cock swollen against his fingers, and twisted his hand just so in a firm, slow, caressing rub. He thought he could get high off the way Spike's moan vibrated through their bodies all the way to the back of his head.

_"You come on like a drug/ I just can't get enough/ I'm like an addict coming at you for a little more."_

This was what he'd always wanted. This was what he'd been craving. Flesh and heat and moans. And Spike. Always Spike. Nothing in the world that he wanted as much as he wanted Spike, and for a moment it was like the ache and want that lived permanently in his gut was sated.

For just a moment.

_"And there's so much at stake/ I can't afford to waste/ I never needed anybody like this before."_

And then it was too much. He couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. Too much. Too much like every dream he'd ever had, every fantasy that had ever entered his head. Too much like he'd ever wanted. Too much like Spike, being in love with him too.

_"When I'm not sure what I'm living for... When I'm not sure what I'm looking for... When I'm not sure what I'm living for..."_

Xander ran.

* * *

Spike stood alone in the middle of the dance floor as the song trailed to a close, and wondered what the hell had just happened.

Everything had been going according to plan. Club- check. Great outfit- check. Maybe a little better than eve he'd expected, but that wasn't exactly a problem. He was there with another hot guy- nothing wrong with that. Hell, everyone in the place was probably jealous of him, the way Xander had looked when they'd gone in that place. Even in sunny LA, where everything was about the glamour and the polish, Xander had stood out.

And then there was the dancing. At first, it was just dancing, and hey, that was why they were there, wasn't it? And then all of a sudden there'd been hands on him, hands that he recognized from dozens of nights spent in the bathroom with stitches and bandages. But this wasn't the same thing at all. Xander's hands had been hot, burning even, as they'd slid over him, pulled him back against a body that was so much larger than his that he'd been startled. Sure, he knew that Xander was bigger than him, but so often Xander acted smaller, it was easy to forget how big he really was- tall, solid, roped with muscle from construction work and furnace-hot.

And then he'd realized that Xander was hard, and his whole plan had been shot to hell.

He'd been surprised, of course- this wasn't exactly a usual thing for the two of them. But then he'd decided, with his usual hell-with-it attitude, to just go along with it and deal with the consequences later. He was sure that there would be- Xander would probably pull away as soon as the song was over, and babble something, and Spike would laugh it off and it would all be fine.

And then Xander got a hell of a lot more active- touching him with hands that seemed to know instinctively what to do, what he liked. The hand wrapped in the chain around his throat, claiming him, owning him- he'd been burning in that moment, and he completely forgot about anything, including the fact that this was _Xander_ touching him like this. His roommate. His friend.

And then it was over, and Xander was gone. Spike had a brief flash of dark hair disappearing into the crowd, and then he was alone.

Which he was bloody well not going to stand for.

He wove through the knots of people dancing with the ease of experience, tracking the scent that he was so familiar with. And there it was- heading for the exit to the parking garage. Something had set him off, and he was instinctively trying to get away.

Spike caught him right outside the door and spun him around, pinning him to the wall and getting right up in his face. "What the hell? What was that about?"

Xander just shook his head, not even bothering to answer, and Spike _growled,_ animalistic and deep in his throat. Xander flinched, and Spike gentled his voice.

"Xander, please. Tell me what's wrong. What was that back there? And why did you take off like a bat out of hell?"

Xander surprised him by starting to laugh, high and wild. Spike backed off slowly, letting him go, and Xander just slumped there against the wall, laughing in a way that was more hysteria than humor.

"Fuck, Spike. You don't get a damn thing, do you?"

"What are you talking about?" Spike demanded.

Xander continued talking as if Spike hadn't spoken. "God, I can't believe you haven't figured it out by now. You always claim to know me better than anyone, but it's been right in front of your nose for fucking months now, and you never. had. a. clue."

"What?"

"I'm in love with you."

And just like that, Spike's whole world came tumbling down. He would have liked to be able to say something witty and Spike-like, but all that came out of his mouth in response was a strangled, "What?"

Xander laughed again, that same bitter, slightly hysterical laugh. "God. For months now. Maybe longer. Anya knew, of course. That's why she left. She loved me, you know. But she knew that I only really wanted you, so she left me with a kiss on the cheek and the best wishes. Like that would do any good. You never even noticed."

"You're screwing with me," Spike said. Still not believing, still not taking it in. He couldn't. His whole world was being reordered from Xander's fast spill of bitter, angry words.

"Yeah, wish I was. It's no picnic, being in love with a fucking moron who has no idea. Jesus, Spike, do you have any idea what it was like? You were always touching me, always wandering around naked, because we're all guys around here, aren't we, Spike? Yeah, but one of the guys has wanted you, wanted you so back it was like a hole in my gut. Couldn't think sometimes, I wanted you so bad. And there you were, wandering around blithely, with no idea what I was thinking, what I was craving."

By this point Spike was recovered a little, not to mention hard as nails from Xander's little speech and the memory of the dance just minutes before. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Why do you think?" Xander demanded. "Didn't want to get rejected again, of course. Do I look fucking stupid to you? You're Spike, the immortal and incredibly sexy vampire. I'm just the construction guy. I'm not so deluded as to ever think that you could really want me. So I didn't say anything, because it was better to dream than to face the reality, which is that you would have shot me down in a second."

"You don't know what I would have-"

"You would have," Xander said, and it was easy to see that he absolutely believed it. "And I wasn't gonna risk it. But there you were tonight, and you were just so fucking sexy I couldn't stand it, and I just wanted you so much-" His voice broke. "Fuck. I can't do this. I just can't."

Spike had expected what he was going to do, but he foolishly thought that he would be fast enough to catch him. Unfortunately, a car came roaring past just after Xander darted across the road, and when it had passed, Xander was nowhere in sight.

As the taillights of the car faded into the distance, Spike stood there on the sidewalk, left alone once again.


	4. D is for Distance, Discovery, and Desire

**D is for Distance, Discovery, and Desire.

* * *

**

**_ In which _**_Spike talks to Lorne, Xander talks to Angel, and conclusions are reached.

* * *

_

Note: The song in this chapter is, of course, _Mad World_ by Gary Jules. It's also one of my favorite songs.**  
**

**

* * *

**

Normally, Spike could track someone easily. With someone he knew as well as he knew Xander, whose scent was as familiar to him as his own, it should have been a snap.

Unfortunately for him, Xander had had the presence of mind to flag down a cab, and by the time Spike had tracked him five blocks over, the scent ended at the curb. Frustrated beyond measure, Spike vented his feelings by kicking the wall, over and over, until a spider web of cracks began to show in the brick.

Sighing, Spike sat down on the curb and stared disconsolately at the oil-slick pavement. How the hell was he supposed to find Xander now? And he had to find him. No way Spike was gonna let him get away with running away after spilling a secret like that.

He was _still_ half-hard from the boy's confession, not to mention that dance. Jesus, if just a dance could get the two of them that hot, what would fucking be like? Spike briefly envisioned Xander naked, gleaming with sweat, leaning over him with that intent expression that he got sometimes and thrusting slowly into him.

Oh yeah. He really had to find Xander.

But where to look? The sun was gonna be up in an hour or so, and he had no clue where Xander would seek shelter. Angel, maybe- but Xander hated the souled vampire, and it wasn't likely that Xander would go to him. That left literally thousands of hotels lodging houses of various types, not to mention any friends that Xander might have here that he could crash with. It could take Spike weeks to track him down like this, and he only had an hour.

Leaning back onto his elbows, he glanced up and read the neon sign on the building he'd just been kicking. _Caritas._ Angel had told him about this place: a karaoke bar run by a demon who could read you when you sang. Hmm.

Spike could use a drink.

* * *

Angel had been having a fairly peaceful night, as far as his nights went. He'd found a few demons in the tunnels on his sweeps, but they'd been dispatched easily enough, and he was returning home wonderfully slime-free. 

When he came into the lobby, however, he caught Spike's all-too-familiar smell, and he resigned himself to having his peaceful night shot all to hell.

"Spike?" he called, taking a step through the door. "You there?"

"Not quite, Deadboy," said another voice, also far too familiar for Angel's peace of mind. "Sorry to disappoint."

Xander. Smelling like Spike. And sounding miserable. Angel reached for the light switch and flipped one of them on, bathing the lobby of the hotel in a soft half-light.

Xander was sitting on the couch in the corner, curled up and dressed in something tight and black. He looked up when Angel turned on the light, and Angel saw something very like tears shining in his brown eyes.

Oh yeah. No more peace for Angel. Also? He was going to kill Spike.

"What did he do?" Angel asked, resigned. Xander looked startled, and Angel explained, "Spike, I mean. He must have done something. What was it this time?"

Xander looked back down at his knees. "He didn't do anything," he muttered. "It was all my fault."

"Somehow," Angel said, "I doubt that."

Brown eyes again, definitely tear-drenched, staring at him, and damn did Angel feel that somewhere low in his stomach. "How do you know?"

"Because I know Spike," Angel said. "And he's a moron."

"Yeah, well." Knees again. "I'm more of a moron."

Thinking of what he knew of Spike, Angel said, very definitely, "I seriously doubt that."

"Why do you care, anyway?" Xander didn't look up for that one, but it was spoken in an angry voice. Or possibly sullen. For Angel, who wasn't the best at deciphering human emotion in the first place, it was even more difficult to tell the difference when the words were muffled against Xander's forearms, and probably mumbled in the first place as well. Angel considered what he knew of Xander and the situation, and made a wild guess that the tone was sullen rather than actively angry.

Angel shrugged, even though he knew Xander couldn't see it. "I don't know why. Does it matter?"

"It's not like you like me," Xander said. "So why bother?"

Definitely sullen. "Just because," Angel said, knowing that it was inadequate. A long pause, and then he added, "And I don't _dislike_ you, you know."

Xander actually looked up at that, and those huge brown eyes, once again, were like a punch in Angel's gut. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Angel said. "I mean, sure, we didn't exactly get along in Sunnydale, but then you didn't exactly go out of your way to make friends back then either."

"Didn't trust you," Xander said. "Also, you got Buffy, and I was chasing after her like... Well, I'm sure you know."

"I might have heard, yeah," Angel said. "But you trust me now?"

"What?"

"Well, you did come here, instead of somewhere else," Angel said, feeling slightly foolish for asking at all. "Does that mean you trust me now?"

Xander didn't even pause in answering. "Sure," he said. "You're different now, and I sure as hell am. Spike got over whatever the hell he had against you, and he trusts you now, so I don't see any reason why I shouldn't."

As endorsements go, it wasn't exactly a rousing one, but Angel still felt a little warm glow nonetheless. "Speaking of Spike," he said, rather pointedly bringing the conversation back around to where it had been going, "can you at least tell me what happened so I can judge for myself who's the bigger moron?"

"Sure," Xander said dispiritedly. "Don't see how it could make my night any worse." Long pause. "Today was my birthday, and so he decided to take me out to a club..."

* * *

It was surprisingly quiet inside of the club. Of course, the quiet was pierced every few seconds by the deeply painful nasal honk of the demon trying to sing onstage, but Spike took what he could get. 

The bar looked well-stocked and definitely inviting, but after one longing glance Spike veered away and took a seat at a table in the back. He was here for the demon, not to get drunk, more's the pity. Everyone knew that he was better at drinking than he was at taking advice, but what the hell, this was too important to screw up.

It wasn't long- ten minutes, maybe- before there was a tall green demon with red eyes and horns standing in front of him with a bottle of vodka in one hand. Spike didn't say anything, just tilted his chair back on two legs, pressing his shoulders against the wall behind him, and held out his right land.

"Spike. You're the Host, I take it?"

"You got that right, sweetie pie," the demon said. Spike ignored the moniker. "You've got problems, I can tell. I might even have answers."

"I just need to know where he is."

"Give me a tune, then, sugar plum."

Spike ignored the pet name again, in favor of glancing incredulously towards the stage. "I'm not sodding well getting up there to sing."

"You don't have to," the Host answered hurriedly. "Just hum a little something right here. I need you to give me a tune if you want me to read you."

Spike paused, trying to think of something to sing. Briefly he considered the Ramones, the Sex Pistols, possibly even something a little more modern- Marilyn Manson, perhaps? But instead, the thing that his roving mind latched onto was a night, six months before, when he'd stolen _Donnie Darko_ on DVD and had forced Xander to watch it. The two of them had started out on opposite ends of the couch, but by the end Spike had stretched out to get comfortable and had ended up with his head in Xander's lap. The movie had rolled to a close, and all Spike had been able to think about was the song coming from the speakers and Xander's fingers twining through his hair.

Spike opened his mouth and sang.

_"All around me are familiar faces, worn out places, worn out faces. Bright and early for the daily races, going nowhere, going nowhere."_

He didn't sing loudly. No, he sang softly, almost sadly, and even as he saw comprehension dawning on the face of the Host he kept going, because he was lost in memory now, and the memory was so much easier than the reality of now.

_"The tears are filling up their glasses, no expression, no expression. Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow, no tomorrow, no tomorrow."_

Why was he here, really? Could this Host really help him, or was he just fooling himself?

_"And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad, that the dreams in which I'm dying are the best I ever had. I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take, that when people run in circles it's a very very mad world... mad world..."_

Christ, he didn't know what to do. What to think, even. All he knew was that he wanted to find Xander and tell him... something. He wasn't sure what. That he loved him? He didn't even know if he did. All he knew is that Xander meant something to him. Wasn't that enough?

_"Children waiting for the day they feel good, happy birthday, happy birthday. Can you feel the way that every child should, sit and listen, sit and listen. Went to school and I was very nervous, no one knew me, no one knew me. Hello teacher tell me what's my lesson, look right through me, look right through me."_

Christ, it had to be enough. Xander was the one constant he had left in life. Damned if he was going to lose him just because he was surprised.

_"Mad world... mad world... enlarge your world..."_

His voice trailed off, the song over, and for a moment silence hung heavy between him and the demon sitting across from him. Finally the Host said softly, "I can tell you where he is. But first I have to know: what are you going to do when you find him?"

Spike looked at him with eyes that suddenly seemed darker than their usual stormy grey-blue. "I don't know," he whispered. "Why do you need to know?"

"I feel for you, honey," the Host said. "But I also feel for the kid you just told me about." At Spike's startled look, he smiled, a little like a parent smiles at a kid who asks how Daddy _knows_ that Santa Clause will come, and said, "He's right there in your head, kiddo. And he loves you. Just because you were too foolish to see it doesn't mean that I can't. And though I want to help you, I'm not going to send you in his direction just to have you stomp all over his heart. He's worth more than that."

"I wouldn't do that," Spike said, almost feverishly. "I _wouldn't_." When the Host said nothing, Spike said, almost feverishly, "Look, I don't know if I love him or not. But I want to find out. And more than anything, I have to close this distance between us. I have to find him. I have to make things right."

The Host watched him, clearly judging him to as to the honesty of his words, and then appeared to come to some sort of decision. "Alright," he said finally. "I'll tell you."

"So?" Spike said, when the Host didn't actually say anything. "Where is he?"

"He's with Angel."

* * *

Angel listened patiently to the whole story, which was rather jumbled and chaotic due to Xander's upset. Finally, when he thought he'd heard the whole of it, he sat back and considered the situation. 

"It seems to me," he said, as cautiously as a judge pronouncing a life-or-death sentence, "that Spike is very definitely a moron.

"However," he continued, when Xander didn't say anything, "we knew that already. He's Spike. So, you shouldn't have run off."

Xander looked up at him, startled. "That's right," Angel said. "You should have stayed. Because I've heard the way that Spike talks about you. He cares. And there's no way that he would have laughed at you when you told him that you were in love with him. In fact, I bet he's out there, right now, trying to find you and cursing because he let you get away."

Xander started to shake his head, then paused. "You're right," he said. "I bet he is too. It'd be just like him." Another pause, and then Xander uncoiled from the couch, sending Angel a dazzling smile. "I'm gonna find him."

Angel, a little stunned from the force of the smile, could only watch as Xander strode across the lobby and pushed open the door.

Only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw Spike standing at the top of the steps.

* * *

"I shouldn't have run off like-" 

"-was just coming to find-"

"-should've trusted you to-"

"Did you really mean-"

"-don't know if we can-"

"-wanted to at least try to-"

Their voices tumbled over and over each other, as the two of them held onto each other like they were afraid that they'd never see each other again. Spike had ahold of Xander's upper arms with a grip that was probably going to leave bruises, but it was okay because Xander was gripping him just as tightly.

There were definitely tears in Xander's eyes, and yeah, there were probably a few in Spike's as well, not that he'd ever admit it, even under torture.

Finally Spike managed to break in long enough to say, "Did you really mean it? I need to know."

Xander froze, then relaxed and nodded. "Yeah. I meant it."

Spike closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. His expression was fierce. "Say it," he demanded, and Xander swallowed hard, but complied.

"I love you."

Then Spike was kissing him, and he knew, in that moment, that he'd never wanted anything more.

Angel, still standing in the background but now quite forgotten, thought that in all his centuries on Earth, he had never seen two people who loved each other more.


	5. E is for Entropy, Endearment, and Ending

**E is for Entropy, Endearments, and Endings.**

* * *

In which Xander thinks, Spike reassures him, and the Slayer finds out more than she ever wanted to know.

* * *

A week later, Xander sat on the balcony of his apartment and watched the sun come up.

He sat in the wooden deck chair, wearing only a hastily-pulled on pair of jeans that he'd zipped but not bothered to button, and sipped from a cup of very black coffee. He hadn't yet showered or shaved, and he really had no idea why he was awake and out here before dawn.

And that was a lie. He'd been doing it for weeks now; he damn well knew when it had become a habit.

It had started the morning when Xander had woken up to find out that Spike wasn't in the apartment. Usually Spike would come in just before the sun came up, and they'd exchange some sort of vague greeting as Xander stumbled towards either the bathroom or the kitchen and Spike made his way back to the bedroom to crash for the day. But that day Spike hadn't made it in time, and had spent the day holed up in his old crypt while Xander had been left to go almost out of his head with worry over what had happened.

Spike had strolled in just after sunset, saying nothing but a short, "Sun caught me. Stayed in the crypt," before going to change in his room. And Xander had collapsed on the couch like a puppet whose strings had been cut, feeling all of his awful fears wash out of him and relief come in to take their place. He'd said nothing to Spike. Instead, he'd started waking up just before the sun came up- his body waking him up before his alarm went off- so he'd never have to wake up and feel that gut-wrenching kick of fear. Something might still happen and Spike might not show up, but at least Xander would at least know it as it happened, rather than coming from perpetually uneasy dreams to an echoingly empty apartment.

When the fuck had he fallen in love with Spike? Honestly, he didn't know. He knew he hadn't felt this way before Spike had moved in with him- reluctant attraction, yes, but definitely not love. And then Anya had decided that her life wasn't going anywhere in Sunnydale with him, and she'd left him without a single backwards glance. And Spike had been there to get him drunk afterwards, and then somewhere after that Spike moved in and Xander fell in love with him- bam, boom, flat on his face.

He heard a click from his room, and then the soft strains of music as his clock radio turned on for his wake-up call. Nevermind that he was always already awake.

_"You could be the devil in my bed/ You could be the angel in my head/ You could be the voices that I hear/ I'm singing along because it sounds just like you're near."_

Whenever it had happened, he'd fallen in love with Spike. And had stayed that way, despite his very best efforts. So he'd finally shrugged and accepted it, and had spent the next several months surprisingly comfortable with his longing. Comfortable because he knew that there was no chance that Spike could even be attracted to him, much less anything else, and so he could learn to live with the state of affairs. Comfortable because his misery had become almost routine.

_"I could be the drug you can't resist/ I could be the antidote you missed/ I could be the love you hate to fear/ You're filling the hole inside your heart with feeling near to me."_

And then there was that night at the club, and he'd admitted everything to Spike, and in the face of all odds, it had worked out. Spike had tracked him down when he'd run to Angel's hotel, the only place his foggy mind had been able to think of, and then Spike had kissed him and told him that he wanted to be with him.

And then they'd waved goodbye to Angel, Xander smiling at him and thanking him for putting up with all the drama, and they'd gone back to Xander's house filled with a rosy little glow.

_"Cause you're so beautiful/ You're beautiful today/ You're so beautiful/ Beautiful in every little way/ Cause when you're coming around/ I'm off the ground/ I've got to say/ You're so beautiful/ You're beautiful today."_

Only things didn't stay quite so rosy. They'd both gone to bed- but in separate beds. They'd both slept for several hours, and then when they'd woken up it was like nothing had changed. Like Xander had never confessed his love, like Spike had never kissed him, like the night had never happened.

The only difference was that now Xander could feel Spike watching him when he hadn't before, and every now and then there were a few casual endearments thrown in amongst Spike's usual words. Xander didn't know what it meant, and it was making his head hurt.

_"And I know/ And I feel/ That I could learn to hate just like you/ And I know/ And I feel/ That you could learn to love just like me."_

Did Spike care about him? Or was he just playing with him? Xander didn't think it was the latter, but it was hard to believe the former, and so he was left not knowing which end was up.

_"Can we make it through together/ I've got to fly..."_

Suddenly he could feel someone standing behind him, and when he heard Spike say, "Mornin', Xan," there was one short moment when all his worries were forgotten.

He twisted around in his chair, mindful of the hot coffee in his hand, and smiled up at the vampire. "Morning yourself. Didn't hear you come in."

Spike smirked. "I was quiet."

Translation: I was sneaking because I was hoping to startle you. Didn't work, so I'm gonna pretend that I wasn't trying.

"Yeah, okay," Xander said, and his own smirk said that he knew what Spike was up to. "You gonna crash?"

"Yeah," Spike said. "What about you? Gonna head out to work?"

Xander held up his cup of coffee. "Finish this first, then I'll get ready." Pause. "Hell, I forgot. Today's Saturday. Guess I'll work on broken coffee table, if the noise won't bother you any."

"Nah, 's no problem." Spike made a small movement, like he was about to leave, but was hesitating, as if waiting for something. Waiting for what, though?

"Spike." Xander's voice was serious now.

"Yeah?" Spike sounded almost... hopeful.

"Are you playing some sort of game here?"

Spike's expression of shock would have been priceless in almost any other situation. "Playing a... Fuck, no, Xan! You really thought that I might be..."

Xander shrugged, hunched his shoulders a little. "Well, a week ago we had the big dramatic scene and there was kissing and stuff, and then the next day it's like nothing ever happened. What was I supposed to think?"

"Not that, you lack-witted little..." He trailed off when he saw Xander's expression, then sighed, a loud, explosive sound, and turned his back as he ran both hands through his hair in an exquisitely frustrated gesture. "Was trying to take it slow, was all," he muttered, almost too low for Xander to hear. Almost. "Saw your face when I got up the next day, and you looked at me all wide-eyed, and I thought maybe you were havin' second thoughts, or somesuch. So I figured I'd start out slow, feel you out, see how you felt about it all. Didn't mean to... well, you know."

Xander stood up, very carefully set his coffee on the arm of the deck chair, and moved into the doorway to put a hand on Spike's shoulder. "Spike." The vampire didn't turn around. "Spike, would you look at me already?"

Spike turned, and Xander brought both hands up to very carefully frame Spike's smaller face. "I want you," he said, very seriously, and then brought his mouth down to kiss Spike, softly at first, as he tried to make his point, and then harder as Spike responded and Xander forgot what his point was, and indeed that he was trying to make one.

A minute later they pulled apart, both of them breathing a little heavily. "So," Spike said after a long moment of staring at each other. "I'm guessing that I was moving a bit too slow."

"That would be safe to say," Xander said, and ran one hand over Spike's already-mussed hair. Spike leaned into his touch like a cat asking to be petted, so Xander did it again. "Also, for the record? The look you saw last week- that was me wondering if _you_ were having second thoughts."

Spike gave him a disbelieving look before uttering a disgusted noise. "Fucking figures." Pause. "So what you're saying is, I wasted this whole week because I misunderstood a look and didn't have the brains to ask what you were thinking?"

"Pretty much," Xander said cheerfully. Spike gave him a baleful look. "Oh, relax. We can probably make up for that wasted week if we try hard enough, you know."

Spike smirked at him, but when Xander made as if to pull him closer, Spike hesitated. Xander dropped his hand like a stone and said, very carefully, "Or do you not want..."

"No!" Spike denied hastily, seeing the look on his face. "It's just that maybe I wasn't wrong with the whole 'moving slow' thing. Just, maybe not that slow." When Xander didn't say anything, Spike hunched his shoulders and said, "Sayin' it all wrong, I s'pose. It's just... it's different with you. Been friends for a while and now it's like-"

"It's like we've been dating for months, and at the same time we've never had a first date," Xander finished for him. "Yeah, I get it."

"Yeah," Spike said with relief. "And as much as I want to-" Pause for a smoldering look that had Xander's cock jumping in his jeans. "-And I _really_ want to, I sorta want to, well, take it slow. Make it count. Not gonna get the first time back, you know? You can only have it once."

"Why Spike," Xander teased. "You're a closet romantic, aren't you?"

"Not," Spike denied. "Sod off."

Xander just laughed and pulled him into a loose embrace. "Nah. Got you where I want you."

"That right?" Spike challenged lazily, not making any move to get away.

"That's right," Xander confirmed, and Spike, held comfortably against all that human warmth, couldn't help but smile to himself at the way Xander was unconsciously stroking his back, like he didn't even know what he was doing.

They stood like that for a minute, until Xander finally stirred and said, "So, if we're going to do the 'going slow' dating thing, there's no time like the present to start. Movie sound good to you?"

Spike took a brief moment to consider the last time he went to a movie theatre- screaming kids, sticky floors, cell phones ringing...

Something of what he was thinking must have shown on his face, because Xander laughed and added, "I meant here. There's gotta be at least one we haven't watched yet." He turned to regard the huge, haphazard pile of DVD cases sitting next to the tv. "Well, I think so, anyway."

"Sounds good," Spike said, and Xander grinned down at him. The expression softened into a smile after a second, though, and Xander tilted his head down for one fast, devastating kiss before turning Spike loose and wandering into the living room, cup of coffee in hand. Spike took a moment to wonder when, exactly, Xander had grabbed it, then just shrugged and went into the kitchen to get his own breakfast.

"Hey, Spike! Grab me a Pop-Tart or something while you're in there, will you?"

"Sure, love," he called back, and in the other room Xander smiled to himself. Knowing that Spike meant the endearments that he used was all the comfort that Xander could need.

Fishing one out of the stack, he called, "_Blade_ sound good to you?"

"Shit, no. We've seen it a million times. And it's total crap. Pick something different for a change."

Xander smiled again. Yeah, things were back on track all right. And that's all that he could want.

For now.

* * *

It should have been a routine patrol. It would have been a routine patrol, and Buffy would have lived happily in her own little denial-land, except the vampire she'd been fighting had suddenly seemed to wake up and smell the perfume and realize that he was fighting the Slayer, and had promptly run like hell.

She'd chased him, of course- and almost turned her ankle in her stylish new boots!- but he'd been faster than she'd expected, and so he'd made all the way into the bad district before she'd been able to catch up with him. And then after she'd taken care of him, she'd noticed someone staggering out of a nearby building with bite marks covering his arms, and a blessed-out expression on her face.

Great. Most towns had to worry about people with needle tracks. But noooo, Buffy was doomed to live on the Hellmouth, where people had vampire bites instead. It wasn't the first time Buffy'd heard about it, but it still creeped her out.

So she'd gone in, ready to kill vamps and rescue Sunnydale's junkies from themselves, and then she'd seen...

Riley.

He saw her, of course. She did look a bit out of place in the seedy warehouse, with her bright clothes and the stake in her hand and everything, and when she walked in he glanced up and saw her. Their eyes met for a moment, and all she could think was _Riley?_

And then the sight of the vampiress feeding from the crook of his elbow registered, and she saw the panic in his eyes and somehow that confirmed that this wasn't some horrible hallucination, and she felt her stomach do a slow roll. And then she was running, down the stairs and out of the building and she was halfway down the street before the pain hit.

She just kept running, because if she stopped it would really sink in, and then she thought that she'd just... curl up and die. And she couldn't do that, because she was the fucking Slayer and she had to be strong and happy and all that shit.

But since she didn't want to be strong and happy, she wanted to run to a friend and have someone hold her and comfort her and tell her that it was going to all be okay, she kept going. Thought briefly about going to Willow's, but realized that Tara would be there and it would just be awkward. So she changed directions and head for Xander's apartment building, knowing that Spike always stayed out all night so he wouldn't be there to laugh at her and make her feel worse. And Xander would comfort her and make her feel better like he always did, and it would all be okay.

But when she got to his apartment and opened door with the key he'd given her the day he'd moved in, she didn't see the dark, empty rooms she'd expected. She didn't even see Xander sitting on the couch, surfing through late-night TV as she knew he did sometimes when he couldn't sleep.

Instead she saw Spike, pushing Xander back against the couch, and... kissing him? Buffy's first instinct was to stride forward, push him off her friend, and what did he think he was doing anyway, but then she saw that Xander was kissing him back, and quite happily too. They were both shirtless, and Spike's hands were twisted in Xander's too-long hair while Xander had one hand on the small of Spike's back and the other in his back pocket, kneading at Spike's ass while Spike made happy moaning noises and shifted so that he could better straddle Xander's body.

"Oh, god."

And when both of them looked up at her, their expressions glazed with lust and a sort of drunken giddy happiness that was rapidly edging towards panic, she realized that nothing would ever be okay again.


	6. Flight, Fellatio, and Friendship

**F is for Flight, Fellatio, and Friendship.** In which the boys go clubbing again, someone gets blown in the alley, and friendships are reaffirmed.

Notes: This story is, if not over, then at least on indefinite hiatus. I've wrapped up dangling story lines, and I really don't know where I want to go next with this, so for now at least, I am done. Maybe someday I'll finish it, but I have no idea when that day will be, if indeed I do finish it. So here it is, the last part (as far as I know)- thanks for reading, everyone.

Oh, and the songs are "Spin Spin Sugar" and "Roll On" by Sneaker Pimps. Find the album, if you can- it really is sex music.

* * *

Spike didn't like the phrase "running away." It smacked of cowardice, and he never did anything cowardly. He would, however, execute a strategic retreat every now and then, and that was what he and Xander were doing currently. 

Driving down the highway on their way back to LA and getting the hell away from Sunnydale, and the pissed-off Slayer the town contained. Spike didn't know what bug had crawled up her ass, and he didn't care as long as he wasn't in close enough range for her to stick any pointy wooden things into his chest.

"You know, I don't think I've ever had to run away from Buffy before," Xander mused from the passenger seat. Spike turned his head to glare at him.

"We're not running away."

"I've definitely never run away from Buffy while halfway to sex," Xander continued, completely ignoring Spike's comment. "What was she upset about, anyway?"

"Hell if I know," Spike said. "And we're not running away."

"Oh, so you mean we're driving to LA because we _aren't_ afraid of the tiny blonde with a stake?"

"No. I mean- Sod it, Xander, we're not running away, and that's that!"

Xander, the bastard, had the audacity to laugh at him. "Okay, so we're not running away," he said, in a conciliatory voice that he had to know was irritating. "We're… backing up. Moving away from the battlefield. Removing ourselves from the scene of the crime. Fleeing like little girls-"

"I'll show you who's a girl when we get to the damn club," Spike snarled, and Xander grinned at him lazily. Spike's cock twitched in his jeans, and he got the idea that Xander was taunting him like this for a _reason._

"I can't wait," Xander said, and yeah, that was definitely a full-blown cockstand.

Bastard.

* * *

The inside of the club was a confusion of people and strobing lights and music. Spike hit the dance floor as soon as they walked in, and he dragged Xander after him. 

Xander, he noticed, seemed remarkably willing to be dragged.

He recognized the song that was playing, and smiled to himself. Some music would always start him thinking of sex, and the Sneaker Pimps made just that kind of music.

Sodding perfect.

He wrapped his lean body around Xander's larger one, rubbing himself sinuously against his lover. Well, almost his lover. Would be his lover, if Her Majesty hadn't interrupted them and then flipped the fuck out over who the hell knew.

But that was okay. Spike planned to change that situation tonight.

"_I'm everyone - I feel used. I'm everyone - I need you. I'm everyone - hang your label on me. I'm everyone - Paint it black and white and easy. I'm everyone - Sticks in me. I'm everyone - Sticks with me. I want perfection - I'm real need. I've seen attention - See through me."_

Spike did sincerely love to dance. And dancing with Xander- well, he'd only had the pleasure once before, but a pleasure it had been.

Xander had such exact control of his body- no flailing to be seen, not like Spike vaguely remembered from long-ago nights spent stalking the Bronze. Now that he was thinking about it, he couldn't remember having seen Xander dance since high school, and he'd sure as hell grown up and filled out since then. Stood to reason that he'd be a better dancer, since he was sure as hell better at everything else.

"_Call on me - Spin spin sugar. Crawl on me - Spin spin sugar. Stinks on me - Spin spin sugar. Twists for me - Spin spin sugar."_

Spike thought that he might always be surprised by the feel of Xander's hands on him. He'd been familiar with them before, from months of Xander stitching and patching him up after brawls or patrol, from months of living together and casually wrestling or Xander smacking him on the back of his head when he was being a prat. But Xander touching him with intent, with sexual need conveyed through the brush of his fingertips and the casually possessive grip on his hips… That was something else entirely.

Xander had big hands. Matched the rest of him, since Xander was big all over. But his hands were always so _hot_ on Spike's cooler body, like all the heat of his lust and affection were focused through his long fingers and wide palms and radiating directly into Spike's skin.

It was overwhelming.

"_I've seen attention - See through me. I want perfection - I'm real need. I'm everyone - Sticks in me. I'm everyone - Sticks with me."_

Xander's hands gripped his hips, not guiding his movements, but holding him close and following his lead. Xander's lips were brushing against his throat, exhaling hot breath across the sensitive shell of his ear, and Xander's thigh was thrust between his, rubbing against him in a way that felt _very_ good.

Spike had been hard since the snogging session on the couch, hours earlier. Xander's teasing in the car hadn't helped his situation anyway, and now, with Xander's much larger body wrapped around him and rubbing against him in all the right ways… Well, he wanted more than just dancing. And he wanted it now.

"_Call on me - Spin spin sugar. Crawl on me - Spin spin sugar. Stinks on me - Spin spin sugar. Twists for me - Spin spin sugar."_

The song ended, and as the next one started Spike cast a quick glance around. There, the back doors- the ones that lead to the back alley. A traditional spot for a blowjob, without a doubt, and Spike was of a mind to finish what they'd started before Buffy's interruption.

Xander followed him without a qualm.

"_Roll on, these doors are open. Roll off, you can come next time. I'm in love with your confusion, on your knees. When you're breathing through your elbows- Down on me, down on me."_

Spike grinned, hearing the start of the new song faintly through the door as it swung shut behind them and he slammed Xander up against the brick wall of the alley. Same band, same do-me-now thoughts that he always got from the music, not that he needed the encouragement. And could the song be any more appropriate for the moment? Spike thought not.

"Hey," Xander said, almost laughing into Spike's mouth, which was conveniently close to his, and Spike just kissed him with all the hunger that had been building over the past few hours, and the entire week before that.

When he pulled away, Xander was panting and looking a little dazed. Spike found this an opportune time to hit him with his best leer. Xander's eyes narrowed with sudden intent, and the breath that Spike didn't need caught in the back of his throat.

"Get your pants open," he growled, his voice almost subvocal in his urgency. "I'm gonna suck you off."

Xander had no protests whatsoever.

"_Roll up, these doors are open. Load up, come next time. Don't try to hurry me along. Just walk ahead a little gone."_

Spike liked sucking cock. He didn't know if that said anything about him and he didn't care, because hell, he was a vampire, and what the fuck did he care about what someone thought? And there was nothing quite like going down to your knees and controlling a big, strong man with someone as small as a flick of his tongue.

And it was all so much more intense because it was _Xander_ above him, with his neck arched and sweat sheening his skin and a moan rumbling through his chest. Xander, who he'd wanted maybe weeks, maybe months before he'd realized it, and so there was so much pent-up lust swirling inside of him, and he finally, finally had Xander right where he wanted him- with his cock down Spike's throat.

His lovely, thick, long cock. Spike had felt it before, against his arse on the dance floor, pressed against his stomach when they were snogging on the couch. But he hadn't been all up-close-and-personal, so to speak, and it was even better like this. Even Spike, who didn't have to breathe, had to work to get it past the spasming muscles in his throat, and it made him smile around the thickness that filled his mouth.

Spike hurriedly ripped his own trousers open and got a hand on his cock, because he knew he wasn't going to last long. Not like this.

"_Roll on, roll off. Roll on, roll off. Don't take that wrong- Don't take that wrong."_

Xander didn't seem like he was going to last long either. Spike was moving faster now, sucking hard on every upstroke, one hand busy on the base of Xander's cock and the other furiously jerking himself off. Xander's moans moved higher up in pitch and volume, and Spike went down and swallowed _hard,_ letting his throat work on the head of Xander's cock. Xander rewarded him by freezing and then shooting down his throat, and his shout of "Spike!" sent Spike over the edge.

"_Roll on, going down on me. Roll off, make it easy on me. You can't think you're someone special- On your knees. We're throwing punches underwater- Sink with me, sink with me."_

They couldn't move for a long time afterwards. Xander was slumped against the brick wall, panting hard, and Spike was still kneeling at his feet, resting his cheek against Xander's hipbone, temporarily too wiped out to move.

"Wow," Xander said finally. His tone was reverent. "I think my heart stopped for a minute there."

Spike started laughing weakly, ignoring the soreness of his throat. It ached, but in a good way. He couldn't wait to have that cock in his arse, and vice versa.

"I'd say the same, but mine doesn't beat to start with," Spike said. He quickly did up his trousers and used his grip on Xander's hip to pull himself to his feet. Xander staggered, his knees obviously not yet back up to full strength, then zipped himself back up and managed to straighten the rest of the way to his feet.

Xander wrapped one arm around Spike's shoulders and pulled him tight against his side. "I don't think I'm up to dancing again after that," he said, already walking towards the mouth of the alley. "You wanna head back home and face the music?"

"We should," Spike said, though there was no enthusiasm in his voice. Xander grinned down at him.

"Come on, it's just Buffy. If we're really lucky, she'll have gotten over whatever sent her into a snit and she won't be waiting with a stake out."

"That's really reassuring, Xan," Spike said, but sighed and gave in. "Alright. Might as well get it over with, eh?"

"That's the good old kamikaze spirit," Xander said. "Essential for living on the Hellmouth."

"And being friends with the Slayer," Spike muttered, but Xander pretended not to hear him.

Spike stopped him from getting in the driver's side. "I'm driving," he said, and there was no room in his voice for debate.

"Why do you get to drive?" Xander said. "You drove on the way up. And it's my car."

"If I have to deal with the Slayer, I should at least get to drive home," Spike said, with what he considered inarguable logic.

Xander obviously couldn't argue with it either, because he went over to the passenger side and got in without a word. Spike fisted the keys triumphantly and slid behind the wheel with a grin.

"Don't get us killed," Xander warned, sounding serious, but when Spike looked over, his eyes were sparkling. Spike grinned at him.

"Do my best, mate," he said, and then pulled out with a squeal of tires.

Xander closed his eyes and prayed.

* * *

Buffy was waiting for them in front of their door. Both Spike and Xander stopped, eyeing her warily, and Spike noticed that Buffy didn't miss the way that Xander automatically pulled Spike closer to his side, like he was protecting him from one of his best friends. Buffy flushed painfully and gave them a little wave. 

"Uh, hi, guys."

"Buffy," Xander said, not sounding any happier. "Didn't think you'd be waiting up."

"Well, I, um, hoped you'd be back before dawn and didn't crash with Angel or get a hotel or anything, and I thought maybe I'd get a chance to talk to you."

"And say what?" Xander said, reaching into his pocket to get his keys, not letting go of Spike to do so. Buffy blushed again and stepped away from the door so he could unlock it.

"And say I'm sorry for the way I wigged out on you earlier," she said. She even sent a small smile Spike's way. "Sorry to you, too, Spike. For the death threats, and all."

"Forgiven," Spike said easily. It wasn't like he wasn't used to her threatening to stake him, after all.

Xander, on the other hand, said nothing. He just walked into his apartment, Spike on his heels, and didn't shut the door behind him in a sort of invitation for Buffy to come in. She did so, shutting the door after her with a quick click and locking it.

Xander tossed his keys into their usual dish on the little table near the door and then turned back to face Buffy. "Could you at least tell me why it happened?" he asked. Very, very quietly. "I mean, I know it was something of a shock, but that still doesn't explain why you reacted _that_ badly."

Buffy twisted her hands together in such a blatant gesture of nervousness that Spike's eyebrows rose. What happened that got the bint that upset, then?

"You know how sometimes we get blood houses in the warehouse district?" she said abruptly. Xander lowered his eyebrows in a frown.

"Vamp whores, and people who pay to get bitten? Yeah, I know them. What does that have to do with anything? You've cleaned them out before."

"I followed a vamp there tonight- well, last night now, I guess- and I found Riley."

Spike wanted to laugh. Really, he did. Because he sodding _hated_ the Soldier Boy. Buffy, on the other hand, looked to be on the verge of tears, and as much as Spike hated her boyfriend, he didn't actually hate Buffy, and he knew that Xander cared about her. So he stayed mute and just watched as Xander abruptly closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.

"Hey, easy," he said. She pressed her face into his chest and started to cry. "Easy, Buff. He's obviously a dick and not worth your time. Don't cry over him, Buff. You know I hate it when you cry."

Buffy pulled back a little so that she could see his face, looking anxious, her eyes red-rimmed and shining with tears. "That's why I flipped last night, y'know? Found Riley like that and I was coming here, hoping to get some Xander-hugs, and I found you and Spike and I just… flipped." She peered up at him. "You don't hate me, do you?"

Every now and then, Spike was reminded that the lot of them were only twenty or twenty-one years old. Buffy looked almost painfully young right then, younger than she'd ever been back in high school when she'd been kicking his arse and throwing out quips right and left.

Xander, on the other hand, looked older than his years when he smiled back at her and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Of course I don't hate you. Consider it forgotten, okay?"

Spike briefly considered getting jealous. Xander had been pretty in love with her, after all, back in the day. Everyone knew that. And Xander's expression was tender, and any fool could tell that he still loved her.

But then she hugged him again, pressing her cheek against his chest, and Xander looked out over the top of her head, staring straight at Spike. And the look on his face… Well, if Spike was the type to get jealous, that look would have stopped it in its tracks. Because yeah, any fool could tell that Xander loved Buffy- but she was his best friend. Spike was… well, Spike knew that he was something more.

She pulled away, completely this time, and gave Xander and even Spike a wan smile. "I should really get going," she said. Xander protested immediately, like Spike had known he would, big-hearted boy that he was.

"Buff, you don't have to go."

She smiled at him. "Yeah, I do," she said. "Mom and Dawn will be expecting me for breakfast."

"Okay," Xander conceded, "but come by sometime tomorrow- well, this afternoon, okay? I'll cook for a change and we can watch really bad TV."

"I have to go and talk to Riley this afternoon," she said, but when he reached out like he was going to hug her again she just touched the back of his hand and said, "But I'll come by afterwards, I promise. And you can make me feel better."

"And Spike can make popcorn," Xander said, then sent a cheeky look in Spike's direction. "Since it's the only thing he can cook."

"'s the truth," he said, mostly to keep Buffy smiling. It was hard not to want her to smile, despite the years of enmity between them, when she was looking as fragile as she did right now. He could see a little of how she drew people so tightly into her orbit- a warrior-woman with a heart of gold, who could resist? Not Xander, and apparently not Spike. "I've done terrible things to his kitchen."

"But I made him clean it up," Xander said. "So it works out."

Buffy shook her head at the two of them, but she was smiling as she did so. "You two are going to drive all of us insane within a week," she said. "But it'll be fun, anyway."

Which was, Spike knew, Buffy giving her blessing. Xander reached out again, just to touch her shoulder, and she smiled at him and said a quiet goodbye before backing away and leaving the apartment.

Xander stood absolutely still for a few seconds after the door closed behind her, and Spike found himself oddly unwilling to break the moment. But then Xander turned to him, eyes intent and serious, and held out his hand, and that was an invitation that someone with much stronger willpower than Spike wouldn't have been able to resist.

Spike went to him immediately, and Xander folded him into his arms with a sigh, much the same way he had with the smaller Buffy but closer, more intimate. Spike just stood there, his arms looped around Xander's waist, and smiled at the feel of Xander's chin resting on the top of his head.

"I'm glad you're here," Xander told him, and Spike tilted his head back until he could see Xander's face. Xander looked serious, and expectant, like he was waiting for Spike's answer.

"Me too, Xan." And when that didn't seem to be enough, he added, "Let's go to bed."

That turned out to be the right thing to say.

A couple of minutes later they were both naked and in bed, and Spike was once again wrapped up in Xander's arms. Xander was already asleep behind him, and as Spike followed suit, he decided that he was exactly where he wanted to be.


End file.
